


I get by (with a little help from my friends)

by diamondjacket



Series: A little help [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: All of the embarassment, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Humor, Isak's friends are the best but also the worst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Sex Toys, allusions to sex, talking about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9121330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondjacket/pseuds/diamondjacket
Summary: “So…” Even starts, and it’s only now that Isak notices that his expression is a little haunted. “I’m not totally sure, but it’s possible that Eskild just saw me naked.”Or: Four times Isak’s friends were way too invested in his sex life, and one time they regretted it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻】I get by（with a little help from my friends）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366305) by [AryaEinstein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaEinstein/pseuds/AryaEinstein)



> Hello there, my dudes! I don’t know why this lovely, well-written, poignant, emotionally resonant show makes me want to write thousands of words of self-indulgent silliness/borderline crack, but here we find ourselves. This is a follow-up to [Help a brother out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8900881)—you don’t necessarily have to read it first, but you probably should. Especially if you find beauty and fulfillment in Isak’s perpetual embarrassment. Which I do, personally, because I am very cruel.
> 
> Disclaimer: I’m just a silly American, so I’m very, very sorry if something isn’t true to Norwegian culture!

1.

Isak is fighting a losing battle with a rolling pin—and trying valiantly to ignore Even’s questing hands on his hips—when Vilde approaches them with a tray of brightly frosted cupcakes and a nervous grin.

Considering that it’s been hours since lunch and half the city probably knows about his epic sweet tooth, Isak would normally perk up at the sight of incoming baked goods. But he’s at school after hours on a _Friday_ , he’s tired, he might be coming down with a cold, and he had to be bribed into attending this _kose_ meeting with sexual favors…Even wouldn’t have gotten away with it, either, if he hadn’t been wearing that _hoodie_ and wasn’t giving him that _look,_ with his _face_ —

“Hi, Isak!” Vilde says, in her typical squeaky register that Isak has definitely come to find endearing, but in his current stormy mood sounds a bit like nails on a chalkboard and shreds his nerves.

“Hi,” Isak says warily, gladly letting Even take over dough-rolling duty. He instantly, easily rolls the sad lump out into a perfect, flat plane, and Isak would be pissed if he hadn’t been vaguely horny since ten this morning and wasn’t low-key desperate to jump Even’s bones. The dude’s proficiency with cookie dough is almost a turn-on, at this point.

Vilde proffers the cupcake tray to him and gives him an uneasy smile.

“These are for you,” she says, suddenly turning shy at Isak’s puzzled expression. “I just, I wanted to thank you for talking to Magnus about…stuff.”

Wait, _what_? She can’t mean—

“It was very cool of you to do that, and things have…” She looks down, smiling softly to herself. “…gone well since then.”

Okay, first of all, _ew_.

Second of all, Isak is perfectly, horrifyingly aware of just how _well_ things have gone since that unfortunate conversation. Magnus hasn’t shut up about it for two fucking weeks and Isak now knows far, far too much about Vilde’s lack of a gag reflex and _nope nope not thinking about that now._

Even raises his eyebrows and shoots him a questioning look, but Isak just gives him a small shake of his head.

“Cool,” Isak says, stupidly, accepting the cupcakes and trying to stop the pain from showing on his face. “That’s, uh…that’s good.”

Vilde nods, somehow managing to be both enthusiastic _and_ awkward.

“Thanks,” she says. “If you, um, ever need to talk about things, or, like, need help with anything, let me know?”

Isak doesn’t know what that means, exactly, but it doesn’t sound good.

“Oooo…kay?” he says, not bothering to hide his confusion. “Not entirely with you, there, but thanks, I guess.”

Vilde’s eyes go big, and she wrings her hands a bit. “Oh! Well…I just mean that if you need help with, um, protection?”

_No no no no no_ …

“Or if you have any questions about how everything works, I think the school doctor’s office has some pamphlets—”

“AH that’s okay, Vilde!” Isak says—or shouts—quickly. There is _no way_ he’s letting her finish that particular train of thought. Ever. He will switch schools—or move to a different continent—before he lets that go down. “Thanks, but...we’re, uh, we’re good.”

He feels a slight vibration against his side and sure enough, when he looks over he sees that Even is shaking with silent laughter. The bastard.

Even then turns to Vilde with his highest voltage smile, the kind that reaches every corner of his face, the kind that makes Isak’s palms go sweaty and his eyelids heavy and his heart race.

Vilde immediately brightens. _Bastard_.

“Don’t worry,” Even says, throwing an arm around Isak’s shoulders and pulling him in. “We’re being safe.”

“Ugh,” Isak says, though it goes ignored.

Even points to the tray of cupcakes in Isak’s hands. “Those look awesome, by the way,” he says, winking. _Winking._ Jesus.

And because winning over Vilde is just that easy, she beams at him and says, “Oh, well…that’s good! Very good.” She points behind her, where it looks like Eva has burned her latest batch of muffins. “Great, well, I should go. See you guys later, then?”

“Definitely,” Even says, grinning.

“Thanks again, Isak,” she says, and flounces away.

When she’s thoroughly out of earshot, Even snorts loudly and says, “So what was that about?”

Despite his best efforts, Isak feels his cheeks betray him by going warm.

“Nothing,” he says, doing his best to act casual. So…failing, in other words. “Vilde is weird.”

Even gives him a look that clearly indicates that he knows Isak is full of shit, and he gently elbows him in the side.

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” he says, bringing his hand up to pat Isak’s cheek. “Especially since you’re so red right now.”

_Damn it._

Isak rolls his eyes in a sad attempt to cover just how embarrassed he is. “It’s stupid!” he says. “Magnus really wanted his dick sucked and Vilde didn’t seem interested, so he asked me…if I…you know…” 

By the sudden elated look on Even’s face, he definitely knows.

“ _Isak_ ,” he says, hand on his chest in mock outrage. “Did you tell him sexy secrets about us?”

“ _Shut up_.”

Even does not shut up. “Did you tell him that I was the man of your dreams?”

“Ugh.”

“That I was the best you’d ever had?”

“We are no longer dating.”

Even pauses, considering. “Did you tell him about that thing you do with your tongue?”

Isak ducks his head to hide the pathetic, bashful smile that’s threatening to break on his face. And to tamp down the flood of memories—vivid, _vivid_ memories—that he should not be remembering in public.

“Keep talking and I’ll never do it again,” he says, raising his eyes to meet Even’s in a challenging stare.

Even pulls him closer and smiles down at him, eyes happy and crinkled around the edges. And then they drop to Isak’s mouth and his gaze goes heated—and _ugh_ , Isak is so defenseless against that look, damn him to hell—and he brings a hand up to gently curl around Isak's neck.

Isak hears his breath catch as Even leans in close, brushing a slow, soft kiss against his mouth. 

“Liar,” Even mumbles against his lips, voice husky and low.

And Isak can’t help it; he gives into Even’s pull and leans in again. Because…yeah.

He’s totally lying.

* * *

 

2.

_Mitosis,_ Isak writes, eyes starting to glaze over, _is the process by which replicated chromosomes separate…_

The finer points of cellular division are lost on him when Even enters his room, towel around his waist and hair damp from the shower and— _mm, Even’s collar bones_. Who needs homework, anyway?

“So…” Even starts, and it’s only now that Isak notices that his expression is a little haunted. “I’m not totally sure, but it’s possible that Eskild just saw me naked.”

The thought, as it first hits him, is horrifying—but Even’s a huge troll and Isak’s been burned many times before, so his first instinct is to laugh.

But when his chuckles fail to get any sort of rise out of Even, it’s clear that he’s not trolling this time.

“Shit,” Isak says, wrinkling his nose. “Was it…do you think it was on purpose?” Because, well, _Eskild_. When Isak excused himself earlier to head up to his room, Eskild and Noora were already well on their way to drunk with a supersized bottle of Chablis in hand—and truth be told, he wouldn’t exactly put it past Eskild to pull a stunt like this _sober_ , either.

Even shakes his head. Thank God. “No, no, totally an accident, I’m sure. I was getting out of the shower and he stumbled in before I could cover myself. And then he just kind of…ran away. No big deal.”

_You don’t know Eskild like I do,_ is what Isak doesn’t say. What he does say is “Hmm,” and he might pout a little, because the thought of someone else—who also happens to appreciate the male form, Isak might add—getting an eyeful of Even makes his stomach twist.

Even saunters over and sits down on the bed next to Isak, smirking a little. “Jealous?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows like the enchanting asshole he is. “Because he saw something that belongs to you?”

_A little,_ Isak thinks.

“No,” Isak says. Not petulantly at all, either.

Even laughs. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I doubt Eskild will even remember. My dick will just be...one of many that he’s seen throughout his life. It’ll blend right in.”

“Ugh,” Isak says, although he’s already smiling so he’s sure Even knows he’s won. Even’s overall record at winning him over is extremely impressive.

“This is where you say, _your dick is one in a million, my love, let me show you how much I appreciate it_ ,” Even says, affecting a breathy, high-pitched voice and poking Isak in the side.

But Isak’s not going down without a fight, so he returns Even’s gaze haughtily. “I haven’t seen a million dicks in my life,” he says, faux dismissive. “How would I know that?”

The pout Even gives in return is a little too exaggerated to be fully satisfying. “Aww, come on, you love it,” Even says, throwing him a sly grin. “It loves you.”

This time, there’s no way Isak can stop the blush from staining his cheeks.

“Come on, admit it,” Even says, throwing his leg over to straddle Isak in one swift move, settling on Isak’s thighs. “You love it.”

And because there’s no room for his pride when he’s got a lapful of Even, Isak leans back against the pillows and throws him a lazy smile. “Mm,” he says, hand toying with the edge of Even’s towel. “Yeah. I do.”

###

The next morning, Isak finds himself engaged in the rarest of activities: cleaning his room. Even’s already gone home for brunch with his parents, so Isak can freely admit that last night’s…exploits…have left him feeling extra _springy_ this morning.

Even doesn’t need the ego boost. Although…he probably deserves it.

Isak’s dusting his nightstand—dusting!—to the sounds of Frank Ocean when Eskild pops his head into the room.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Eskild trills, smiling broadly.

Isak is instantly suspicious.

“Hello,” he says, cautiously.

Eskild meanders into the room, in that charming way of his that looks like he’s dancing to music that only he can hear.

“How are you on this majestic Saturday?”

Okay, now Isak is _very_ suspicious.

“Fine,” he says, bracing himself for imminent suffering. “What’s up?”

Eskild assumes a look of extreme innocence, and yup, this can only spell bad news for Isak’s sanity. “Oh, nothing,” he says, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in his shirt. “Just wondering if you had a few minutes for a quick pow-wow with your guru extraordinaire.”

_Fuck._

Isak sighs. “Do I have a choice?”

“Isak, you always have a choice,” Eskild says, tutting. “Right now, your choices are: sit down and chat with your favorite roommate who loves you very much, or…actually, no, you don’t have a choice.”

Isak can’t even muster the strength to roll his eyes. He just drops onto his bed with a huff.

“What is it, o guru of mine?”

Eskild sits down next to him and shrugs. “Well, funny story,” he says. “Last night I just happened to, at the complete mercy of the universe and through no fault of my own, catch the briefest of glimpses of your boyfriend’s, well…”

All of a sudden, Isak’s conversation with Even comes back to him in a rush. Oh _God_ , how could he have possibly forgotten?

“No no no no,” he says, shaking his head, like refusing to accept it will somehow make it less true.

“It’s not a big deal,” Eskild says, placating. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Isak.”

“Whatever you’re going to say,” Isak pleads, “I’m begging you to reconsider.”

Eskild shoots him an unimpressed glare and crosses his arms. “Isak, shut up and let your guru help you, okay?”

Isak can do nothing but groan helplessly.

“So,” Eskild continues, paying Isak’s pain no mind. “I happened to notice that he’s quite…large?”

“Don’t do this, man,” Isak says.

“And I know you’re a newbie to this stuff and I just wanted to say that if you have any questions about, you know, accommodating someone of Even’s…girth…”

“ _Ugh_.”

“…then just let me know. I know that in _my_ experience, it can be helpful to kind of, you know, work your way up to it.”

This is so, so much worse than anything Isak’s fragile mind could have possibly conceived.

“What does that even mean?” he asks, exasperated.

“Like, with toys,” Eskild says.

“ _Toys_?” Isak yelps, before he can stop himself.

Eskild gives him a pitying look. “Yes, Isak. You’re a teenage boy with an Internet connection. I know you know what those are." 

Isak gulps audibly. “I mean, yeah, but…aren’t those mostly for girls?” he asks, mind filled with unpleasant memories of fruitless nights in front of his laptop, and _breasts_ and _French manicured nails_ and _bubblegum lipstick_ and _this porn isn’t working_ and _what’s wrong with me?_

“Oh, Isak,” Eskild sighs, sounding fond. “Sometimes I forget that even though you’ve somehow managed to strike gold on your first attempt at finding a boyfriend, you’re still just a precious little baby gay.”

Isak huffs in irritation. “Does this have a point?”

“They’re not just for girls, silly. Here, look at mine,” Eskild says, reaching behind his back and procuring a purple, sparkly dildo out of _nowhere, what the fuck?_ “It’s designed to—“

“Don’t put it on my bed!” Isak says, alarmed.

The sheer reproach on Eskild’s face is truly humbling. “It’s clean, you stupid boy,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, this one is made for men. And you can get it in a bunch of different sizes, so you can get used to…you know.”

And, well. As weird as it all is, Isak can’t say that there isn’t something…interesting…about the idea. He’s never done it before, and Even’s so smooth and just so overwhelmingly _good_ in bed and how can Isak possibly measure up? What if he does something wrong? What if he doesn’t like it?

(What if he _does_ like it?)

“How, um. How do you even know that I’d be the one, to, uh…” he mutters, looking down.

Eskild just shrugs. “I don’t,” he says, simply. “And if you aren’t planning on it, that’s totally okay and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

Silence falls as Isak works to control the heat in his face. He can’t completely bring himself to look Eskild in the eye, instead opting to stare down at his blanket and pick at a loose thread he finds there.

Finally, he sighs. “No, I…I’ve thought about it,” he says softly, drawing up his knees and wrapping his arms around them. “I think it’s…something I want. Will want. At some point.”

Eskild’s resulting smile is small, and it’s kind.

“Great,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and starting to type. “I’ll send you a few links.”

“No, no, you don’t—”

“Too late!” he singsongs. Isak’s phone dings, indicating a new text. Eskild grins and rises to his feet. “That’d be me. Weeeell it was great talking to you, my devious little sex kitten.” 

“ _Ugh_.”

“Be safe, and remember to use plenty of lube!”

And with that, he bounces out of the room, leaving Isak speechless and gaping like the world’s most sexually traumatized flounder.

After a few minutes of sitting there, stunned, stewing in embarrassment and staring at the spot on the bed where Eskild’s dildo once sat like it personally betrayed him, Isak finds his hand creeping over to his phone on his nightstand. 

Can’t hurt to take a quick peek, right? Obviously he’s just curious about the crazy shit that Eskild gets up to. It’s _funny._ He’s not actually going to _do_ anything with what Eskild sent. Obviously.

Because that would be weird. So weird. The weirdest.

(If he bookmarks the link to the toy that Eskild showed him, no one has to know. He noticed that it comes in red, and, well.)

(Even always says that red is his color.)

* * *

 

3. 

Why is it that his locker always waits until Isak’s having the shittiest day possible to be a complete and utter dick?

He has a biology exam in twenty minutes that he needs to cram for _now_ and his textbook is trapped inside this deathtrap from hell and would he be kicked out of school for obliterating it with a hammer? Or, like, a flamethrower?

“Breathe, Isak,” comes Eva’s amused voice, and she appears beside him with a smile. She reaches past him and performs some deft maneuver on his lock that causes the door to spring open, casually, like it hadn’t spent the last five minutes contributing to Isak’s premature death. 

He pulls in a deep breath, then releases. He doesn’t know what sorcery that was, but he’s not going to question it right now. “Thanks,” he says, braving the ungodly mess inside his locker to rescue his biology textbook and shove it into his backpack.

“We actually wanted to talk to you real quick,” Eva says, and only then does Isak notice that she’s brought Jonas with her, and huh. If that doesn’t bring on the flashbacks to last year, he doesn’t know what will.

“Sure,” he says, because the three of them _talking_ , like old times, is highly abnormal these days but he trusts them enough not to make it weird. “Gotta make it quick, though—damn biology test in fifteen.”

“Right,” she says, nodding and casting a quick look at Jonas, who looks slightly less than thrilled to be doing…whatever it is they’re doing. “So, I can’t help but notice that you’re…limping, or whatever.” 

Isak freezes. Whether it’s out of surprise or sheer terror, he honestly can’t say, but it’s a miracle he doesn’t instantly drop everything he’s holding and run away screaming. 

“It’s happened a couple of times now. I’ve seen it. Actually, we both have,” she adds, glaring meaningfully at Jonas. He nods jerkily, and Isak can’t even fault him for it because anyone who defies Eva when she’s in this kind of mood is a fool.

“I know it’s awkward and we only ask you this out of love,” Eva continues, completely ignorant to the fact that Isak is dying inside. “But Even’s not being too…rough with you, is he?”

_Now would be as good a time as any for the earth to open up and swallow me whole_ , Isak thinks. _Why does the universe never provide an apocalyptic natural disaster when you need one?_

Eva places her hand on his arm, in what she probably thinks is a reassuring gesture. “I know how uncomfortable it can be, and guys sometimes don’t realize when they’re taking it too far,” she says, and Isak feels his eyes grow wide as saucepans. Jonas coughs and looks down at his shoes like they’re the most interesting things he’s ever seen.

Isak should say something to make her stop. He should put an end to this now, before he actually passes out from the blood rushing to his face. But he’s stuck, mouth slightly agape in horror, watching the train come towards him and unable to move his lead-heavy limbs.

“I know it can be hard, but you need to speak up and tell him when it happens so you don’t get hurt,” Eva finishes, elbowing Jonas in the chest and side-eyeing him hard.

Jonas clears his throat awkwardly, and says: “Yeah, bro. Let me know if I need to beat him up. I always have your back.” Which is a dirty lie, because if he had Isak’s back he would have found a way to prevent this conversation from _happening at all, Jesus Christ._

Isak knows his silence is damning, and that he’s currently gaping like an idiot. Whatever pathetic falsehood that comes out of his mouth right now is definitely going to fall flat—it makes him momentarily yearn for a time when the paralyzing fear of revealing his deepest secrets had forced him to become adept at lying, because he is now _exceptionally_ out of practice.

“No,” he says, cringing at how weak his voice sounds. “I, uh, pulled a muscle during P.E. You know…football.”

Quite possibly the dumbest thing he’s ever said, and Eva’s unimpressed expression confirms it.

She just stands here, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, every inch of her face screaming _you are so full of shit, Isak._

And he is, completely. It’s not exactly what Eva thinks, but, well. It’s not totally off base, either. Isak flushes, thinking about the events of the previous night. Eskild’s advice had proven…very helpful, although he would rather die than admit it.

He squirms under Eva’s critical stare. Why exactly did he want to rekindle this friendship again? Clearly, she is an evil person with evil ways who does evil things that _ruin his life_.

Finally, Isak breaks. “Okay!” he says, throwing a quick anxious look at Jonas, who’s been great about all this so far…but what happens when he reaches his limit?

Isak will just have to roll the dice.

“Okay,” he repeats, softer. “It was from…that. But…” He gulps. “It was nothing I didn’t ask for, or…enjoy.”

Jonas’s eyes get _huge,_ but he quickly recovers and snorts loudly. Isak relaxes, the tiniest fraction.

Eva’s reaction is much, much worse—she breaks into a devious grin. “Hmm,” she says. “Are you _sure_ I can’t steal him? Just for one night?”

Okay, gross _._ “Please leave,” he implores pitifully, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She laughs like the evil person she is, but then her face softens. She touches his arm again, and he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

“You’re sure everything is good?” she asks, and okay, maybe she’s not so evil. Nosey as hell, but Isak knows she means well. And Jonas—the fact that he’s even still standing here is a testament to how much he cares.

It’s…nice. Kind of.

He gives Eva a very small nod, not trusting himself to say anything, and that seems to satisfy her.

“Good,” she says, smiling.

“See, I told you!” Jonas chimes in, clearly more comfortable now that the confrontation phase of this discussion is over. “I told you, my boy Isak can take it.”

Evil. Both of them, _evil_.

“Okay, you can get the hell out of here now,” Isak groans, reaching over to push Jonas down the hall so he can find a spot to curl up and die in peace. “I have an _exam_.” They laugh at him as they walk away, because they’re clearly terrible people.

Isak prays that, at the very least, they can keep this to themselves.

###

The next morning, Magnus greets Isak in the hallway with his fist raised for a bump, yelling, “Woooo get some, bro!”

Isak is _so_ topping next time.

* * *

 

4.

Isak has the strangest sense of déjà vu when Magnus drops down beside him at their lunch table, mouth full of some sort of colorful processed food and a single-minded expression on his face.

“So I was watching gay porn the other night…” Magnus starts. Because sure, why not.

“What?” Isak says, because he is far too manly to squeak and that is definitely not what happened, okay? “ _Why_?”

Magnus just shrugs and swallows his mouthful of food. “I was curious!” he says, like that explains anything at all. “I mean, it was an accident at first, but when the girl didn’t show up after ten minutes, I just kinda went with it.” 

Isak sighs—he’ll carve out some time to rethink his entire life later.

“That’s real special, Magnus, really it is. _Why are you telling me this_?”

Magnus perks up a bit, completely undeterred by Isak’s frustration. Typical.

“I have a few questions,” he says, and Isak drops his head to the table with a _thunk._

“Magnus, I can’t do this again.”

“Aww, come on, man,” Magnus whines, bouncing a little in his seat. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to, like, bond with you, bro.”

Isak snorts. 

“I don’t want you to have to hide this stuff from me,” Magnus finishes, and damn him, because how can Isak possibly shit on him for that?

It’s stupid, it’s so, _so_ stupid, but…if this is Magnus’s misguided way of reaching out, he’s not going to push him away. Even though he probably should, and he’s going to need to land a high-paying job to cover the inevitable therapy costs.

The things Isak does for his friends.

He sighs. “I mean, okay, Magnus,” he says. “That’s…fine, I guess. What did you want to know?”

Magnus grins. “Cool!” he says. “So, rimming—”

“ _Nope_ ,” Isak says, standing up so quickly he knocks his knee into the table. “Nope, nope, nope.”

He doesn’t run away, because he has more dignity than that. 

(He totally runs away.)

* * *

+1.

“Wow, they’re…loud.”

It’s Eva who breaks the silence. Well, not silence, exactly. The impressively loud moaning emanating from Isak’s room has been going on for at least fifteen minutes, and the entire group—who stopped getting together under the pretense of Kosegruppa a long time ago and now hang out by choice—are standing around Isak, Eskild, Linn, and Noora’s kitchen, stunned.

Linn chuckles darkly. “Who knew Isak was a screamer when he’s drunk?” she asks, picking at a beer label.

Right on cue, they hear a particularly expressive groan that is _definitely_ Isak.

“I know it’s just been Even’s name and a lot of swearing,” Noora says, considering. “But I think this is the most I’ve ever heard Isak say? And like, I _live_ with him.”

“Should we leave?” Mahdi asks the room. “We should leave, right?”

Jonas nods. “Probably.”

Chris Berg shrugs, casually petting the electric blue feather boa strewn across her shoulders. “I mean, I’m down to ride this thing out if you guys are,” she says. 

Sana smirks into her cup.

In the corner, Eskild hops onto the kitchen counter, thoughtfully filing his nails with a file he produced from…somewhere. “On the one hand,” he muses, “I can’t help but feel like a proud father.”

“Ugh,” Linn grumbles.

“On the other hand,” he continues. “Fathers generally don’t enjoy listening to their sons getting it on.”

Noora snorts. “Generally?”

“I said _father_ , Noora,” Eskild tuts. “Not daddy.”

Everyone groans loudly. Someone throws a wadded up napkin at Eskild’s head, which he ducks with an outraged huff.

Silence descends again, which means they all hear it with perfect clarity when a telltale, rhythmic thumping starts on the other side of the wall.

Chris Schistad raises his eyebrows and throws his arm around Eva. “Anyone want to take bets on who’s topping?” He leers.

Eva and Eskild share a small, secret smile. Jonas just stares hard at his beer bottle.

Magnus, who gave up his chair for Vilde and is now sitting on the floor and leaning back against her legs, scoffs loudly. 

“I mean, Even, obviously,” he says, the _duh_ implied.

Mahdi furrows his brows. “Why obviously?”

“He’s bigger!”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “So?”

“So that’s how it works, right?”

“ _No_ ,” Eva says, glaring at him. “What are you, five?”

“Aww,” Eskild hums. “You sweet, stupid little boy.” 

Magnus, as usual, looks genuinely surprised to be on the receiving end of scorn. “What?” he asks. “How does it work, then?”

Jonas exhales a dubious laugh. “I don’t know, man, but definitely not like that.”

“Maybe they switch off,” Mahdi posits.

Magnus tilts his head. “They can do that?" 

“Of course they can,” Mahdi says, incredulous. “Maybe they just see who’s feeling what and decide from there.”

“That sounds confusing.” 

Mahdi snorts. “Everything’s confusing for you, dumbass.”

“You guys!” Vilde breaks in, her voice unsteady and clearly uncomfortable with the turn this conversation has taken. “I don’t think it’s any of our business. Maybe we should just head to the party?”

Silence again, only broken by another forceful moan. Even, this time.

“I don’t know,” Eskild says, shrugging. “I feel kind of invested in this now.”

Mahdi tentatively nods in agreement. “Yeah, I mean…we’ve come this far.”

“Dude,” Jonas says. 

“What? I want to see how this ends.”

“We know how it’s going to end!”

Chris Berg cuts in, “You guys, I think it’s ending now.”

Sure enough, the moans—and the banging against the wall—have gotten even louder, somehow, and they’re clearly building up to something. They reach an impassioned crescendo, and Isak’s breathy “ _Even!”_ will likely be burned in the brains of everyone in attendance for months to come.

And, finally, blissful silence.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Jonas says after a beat, looking deeply troubled. “But I’m going to pretend this never happened.”

“Fine by me,” Eva says, shrugging. Vilde nods eagerly.

Magnus leans his head back to look Vilde in the eye. “Do you think we should try butt stuff?” he asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.

She squeaks. And then smacks him on the head.

“I’m sorry!” Magnus exclaims, shielding himself from further violence. “It just sounded like they were having a really good time in there.”

Eva sighs, dreamily. “It did, didn’t it…”

Jonas shakes his head and rises to his feet. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this,” he declares. “We gotta get out of here.”

They all stand, putting on their shoes and gathering their things, hesitant to say too much out loud. Real silence seems so precious, now.

As they file out the door, Magnus turns to the group.

“Is it weird that I’m kind of horny right now?” 

“ _Shut up, Magnus_!”

###

Isak, fully clothed and scowling, puts his ear against his bedroom door to listen for signs of life.

Even, also fully clothed, smiles invitingly from his perch on Isak’s bed. “Are they gone?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“That was a pretty dazzling performance,” Even says, smirking and leaning back against the wall. “Have you ever considered a career in acting?”

Isak grimaces. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that _acting_ ,” he says.

“Hm,” Even hums. “Fine, maybe not _acting_ , exactly. A different kind of performing in front of the camera, maybe…”

Isak knows he’s blushing—his face is going to set a record, one of these days—so he rolls his eyes to divert attention from the heat in his cheeks. “Shut up,” he says. Not one of his better comebacks, he’ll admit.

“Mmm, you’d be so famous.”

“I just wanted them to stop asking me about…what we do,” Isak whines, flopping ungracefully onto the bed beside Even. “It’s none of their business.”

Even grins down at him. “Aww, they just want to make sure I’m treating you right,” he says, patting Isak’s head. “It’s kind of cute.”

“ _Pssh_ ,” Isak exhales dismissively. “Trust me, it’s weird.”

Even is quiet for a moment, and his face does that thing where it goes soft and honeyed around the edges that makes Isak quake inside—that _holy shit, he actually likes me_ feeling that sets his blood on fire. A hand comes up to rest against Isak’s face, and Even’s long fingers thread sweetly in Isak’s hair. 

“Now that they’re finally gone,” Even says, eyes falling to Isak’s mouth like they can't resist. “What do you say we get a little _weird_ in here?”

Somehow, it fails to ruin the mood. Which probably says more about how fucking gone Isak is than Even’s unfortunate sense of humor.

Isak decides to just go with it, and feels his eyelids go hooded and his pulse quicken. “Mm,” he says, wetting his lips as Even’s arms snake around his waist. “Despite that line, I think I’ll allow it.”

“So good to me,” Even murmurs, right before his kiss lands.


End file.
